


Casualty

by LeafOfTrees



Series: Become The Beast [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruce/jeremiah, Canon-Typical Violence, Jeremiah/Bruce established friendship, Jim Gordon Mentioned, M/M, Possessiveness, Unhealthy Relationships, ecco - Freeform, giving into temptation (Hints of future darker Bruce), harvey bullock - Freeform, obsessive / possessive behaviour, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26717077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafOfTrees/pseuds/LeafOfTrees
Summary: There’s something dark beneath Bruce’s skin, Jerome sensed it, Ra’s al Ghul saw it within him. Bruce can feel it creeping closer.He’s falling down a rabbit hole.And the connection and building attraction to Jeremiah Valeska isn’t helping.~~ He feel like Alice again, falling, falling, falling down an unending rabbit hole wreathed in darkness. He’s trembling as his head rests against Jeremiah’s, his lips brushing against his, he’s shattering to pieces as he says in a hushed whisper.“Yes, I feel it.”The raw honesty of his words is starling. His breathing is as erratic as his thundering heart, he can feel it against his ribs, hear it in his ears.~~
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska/Bruce Wayne
Series: Become The Beast [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944361
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	1. Casualty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neyiea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/gifts).



> Right where to start, hmm. So firstly, this is my first rodeo writing Gotham, I’m hoping it turned out well. 
> 
> Secondly, I’ve dedicated this story to Neyiea because I have been floored by their story telling, seriously if you haven’t read any stories by Neyiea ( what are you waiting for, go, go, go! You won’t be disappointed) Anyway, the urge to write Gotham stories didn’t hit me until I stumbled upon those gems by Neyiea. (So thank you for writing them -please keep writing them-)
> 
> So here we are, I think these are going to be short stories, one shot in a series, hopefully that makes sense. I’ll aim to update as quickly as possible, even though I have way to many projects going on at the moment, I can’t seem to help myself.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy.

**_It's cold as ice_ **

**_But this kind of fire don't keep us warm inside_ **

**_It's cold as ice_ **

**_I am unstable, and there's nowhere to hide_ **

**_Call me a casualty_ **

**_The cost of catastrophe_ **

**_The damage, damage, damage is done_ **

**_Call me, call me another one_ **

**_~~ Casualty, by Hidden Citizen, Tash._ **

##    
~*~*~*~*~*~

  
He finds himself once again walking the plain concrete halls of Jeremiah’s bunker, following the silent figure of Ecco as she leads him expertly through the maze and leaves him before the door to Jeremiah's office. 

Bruce enters to find the one person he’s felt at ease with and an instant connection, working tirelessly behind his desk, sheets of paper depicting designs lay scattered over almost every surface and the redhead looks up with a small smile.

“Bruce.” He greets waving him forward. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

Bruce fidgets feeling strangely awkward, he should have called ahead, but he was so angry at Selina, even though he realised she hadn’t known Tabitha’s true motives and all thought had abandoned him, before he’d even realised the direction he was driving to it was too late and he knew Jeremiah would have spotted his car through his surveillance system. 

There was no point in turning back. The fact was, Bruce felt he could talk to Jeremiah — about anything and everything and no judgment upon him would be passed.

“I apologise, I just…”he chews his lip, he doesn’t know where else he can turn right now or who else he could turn to for comfort. 

And Bruce did find Jeremiah’s presence soothing and comforting, it was why he began visiting more and more over the last few months.

“Are you alright? Did something happen?” The redhead slips around his desk, stopping before the chair Bruce has dropped into. His eyes full of concern as he waits for Bruce to answer.

Ra’s was back, and he, Bruce had been used to resurrect him. His hands curl to fists as he recalls looking down upon Ra’s corpse and a shudder takes hold of him.

Jeremiah is quick to notice, placing a comforting touch to Bruce’s shoulder.

“We’re friends Bruce, you can tell me anything.”the softly spoken words tug at Bruce’s heart and he lifts his eyes to Jeremiah’s openly concerned face, he swallows, noticing —not for the first time— how Jeremiah’s nearness causes a gentle flutter in his stomach.

I want to tell him, he thinks.

“I...I’ve done things that make me question myself.”echoing one of his deeper monst thoughts brings a lightness to the weight bearing down on him , “things that make me question if there’s a darkness inside of me raring to break free.”

He’s felt it many times clawing to the surface, in the mirror maze was most prominent in his mind, recalling the feeling of desiring nothing more than to sink the jagged shard of broken glass into Jerome’s chest, and he’d been so, so close in that moment and he’d wanted it, wanted to sink the shard deep into Jerome’s flesh, knowing he would feel the warmth of blood pool around his hands.

Bruce squeezes his eyes closed drawing in a sharp breath.

Jerome had seen it in him, he’d understood Bruce in that moment, perhaps the only moment clarity had ruled him and he’d known Jerome was willing to take it, if it meant bringing forth the darkness building, building, building with every passing day.

How close he’d been to giving in.

“I understand Bruce.”why did such a simple statement from Jeremiah’s lips have such a profound effect on Bruce, raising goosebumps on his arms?

_ ‘I understand Bruce.’  _ Spoken with such reverence, such surety, as if he might truly understand the struggle battling deep within. 

They were so close, each having leaned a little toward the other, unaware, as if drawn, like magnets, like moths to flame. The static ripples in a steady current through the air sending little jolts through Bruce’s skin. Did Jeremiah feel it too?

That connection between them.

Jeremiah blinks, severing the contact and Bruce feels suddenly able to breathe once again and cold, all at once, as Jeremiah pulls away from him. 

“Thank you, Jeremiah.”he means it, and he holds Jeremiah’s gaze until he is sure the redhead knows and understands what that means to him.

The smile Jeremiah offers is breathtaking as he pushes his glasses further up his nose.

I like him more than just a friend, he realises watching him hours later talking animatedly about the generators they were building, his passion is infectious and it fills Bruce with promise of a better future, of cleaner, cheaper energy to run the city.

“You have a brilliant mind.”he repeats the words from their first encounter. Amazing, brilliant, he adds silently, feeling the smile stretch his lips.

His fingers twitch to touch Jeremiah’s hand resting on the blueprints but he manages to quell the impulse and Jeremiah continues explaining the inner workings of the generator, drawing him into the project more.

He’s never felt happier than he has right now, happiness seems as fleeting as grains of sand falling between his fingers, especially after the night he’d witnessed his parents murder, nothing but a deep dark hollow had been left, an empty chasm he failed to fill time and again.

Selina, he’d thought, might fill that chasm long ago when their friendship was new and in his innocence Bruce had felt a bond bloom between them, but lately she had started pulling away, she was so hot and cold it left Bruce dizzy and confused, they have slowly begun drifting apart into opposing directions.

“None of this would be possible without you Bruce, without your faith, your support.”The intensity with which Jeremiah is watching him makes him hot and breathy all at once, there’s a spark in his gaze that should call to Bruce’s sense of danger, danger, danger.

It is a look he’s never seen on Jeremiah before, but it is there fleetingly before the redhead smooths his expression and leaves the room to make them coffee. 

He should make an excuse to leave, because he has seen that look once before or at least a look so similar and he can’t shake the feeling gnawing at his insides.

And perhaps in the aftermath of being forced upon that stage with explosives secured to their necks, perhaps Bruce may have failed to check in with Jeremiah until a week following the incident even knowing the redhead had no one else to turn to, to talk to about what had transpired.

Shame fills him.

Because surely such an experience would leave a great gaping mental and emotional wounds, Bruce has been through too much already, through far worse situations and he did after all have Alfred there to support him in those darker moments.

Who did Jeremiah have?

No one, of course, besides Ecco and Bruce wasn’t entirely sure if they were close or if their relationship was employer and employee, the blond woman was always strangely absent whenever Bruce was around.

He wants to make sure Jeremiah is really okay after what happened, the strange look, almost a mirror to a look that had once crossed Jerome’s face, left him unnerved, on edge and eager to reach out further to the man who’d become his only escape of late.

Jeremiah returns, two mugs of coffee in hand and Bruce blurts “Jeremiah, I have to ask...how have you been since everything that transpired with Jerome?”

Jeremiah stiffens at the no doubt unexpected question.

“It was a transformative experience, it opened my eyes to all the great things I can achieve going forward, no longer haunted by Jerome's shadow.”

A cold shiver trails Bruce’s spine and not in an unpleasant way, it resonates throughout his entire being and he can feel, just from Jeremiah’s words, that he’s resolute in his promise to aspire to great things.

“Of course,” Jeremiah chuckles, “such a journey would be wasted with no one to share it with...I could use a good friend.”it’s a tentative offer to Bruce and he has no inclination to deny Jeremiah this.

“I look forward to what we can achieve.”he beams, the light in his eyes genuine and warm.

Jeremiah’s smile falters, “I have one confession.”the nevourness seeps back as he stands and moves to remove a book from one of the cabinets.

“Arkham sent me Jerome’s personal effects, in amongst them I found his diary.”He holds the little book up, the black cover is littered with brightly coloured skulls, swirls and whorls.”it’s a catalogue of his fantasies and goals, every twisted vision he ever had.”he flips through the pages, they are filled with wiring and drawings, motifs: War Is Coming repeatedly written or sketched on page after page.

There’s an edge to Jeremiah’s voice as he hurriedly flips through the pages, his eyes drinking in the words and images, it’s enough to put Bruce on edge, to feel that sense of danger, danger, danger tingle again.

He senses a small shift in Jeremiah, Bruce reaches toward the hand flipping through the diary, rests his atop Jeremiah’s, who stills at the contact and turns to him.

“Maybe you shouldn’t spend so much time reading it.”

_ Take it away, rip it away, burn it.  _ His mind screams.

“He was obsessed with torturing and murdering me, James Gordon and you. And if he’d have been just the least bit sane...he would have destroyed all us and Gotham would be in ruin.”he felt cold at the words, He needed to take Jerome’s diary away from Jeremiah, far, far away.

No good would come of him keeping it, reading it.

His tone and the intensity permeating the air was unsettling. Bruce pulled the dairy aside, away from Jeremiah’s view. The redhead turns his face to Bruce and their gazes lock, his expression becomes serious and his voice firm.

“Your brothers dead Jeremiah.” He doesn’t blink, doesn’t breath, doesn’t waver under the intensity of Jeremiah’s eyes, it was time for the man before him to stop hiding when there was no longer a need to do so, of this Bruce was absolutely certain.

“It’s time for you to come out of this bunker and join the world.”

Jeremiah’s voice is rough, shaky, “yes...yes, he’s dead...I have trouble believing it.”his heart aches for him at this moment, so he steps closer, rests his hands on each of Jeremiah’s arms, his warmth seeping through to Bruce’s palms.

His heartbeat speeds up and he’s not sure if either of them is breathing, and he wants, he wants…

Closer, closer, closer until they are sharing breaths, the warm air fanning each of their cheeks, Bruce’s face begins to warm.

He so very much wants to lean forward, just a smidgen closer, seal the gap between them with his lips.

“It will be alright,”Bruce murmurs softly, almost dizzy with how close they are, with how close his lips are to brushing against Jeremiah’s. “There’s no reason to be afraid, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”he means it, every word, it’s a promise he’ll move heaven and earth to keep.

“Because we’re friends?”a hesitant question, he can hear the nerves, the hopefulness in Jeremiah’s voice. Perhaps we could be more than friends, the brunette thinks his eyes drifting to Jeremiah’s lips.

“Yes.”he whispers, unable to smooth the genuine smile, “because we’re friends.”

They are both silent, eyes fixed upon each other, the distance shrinking as the minutes tick by nervous energy building between them and Bruce knows he’s going to give in soon, the urge pushing, pushing, pushing him forward to mould his lips against Jeremiah’s, his mind drifts wondering how they’d feel, would their kiss be soft, gentle and nervous how he imagines, when he looks at Jeremiah is his suit and tie, his glasses slipping down his nose.

Or would it be so much more?

The shriek of his phone ringing ruins the moments and Jeremiah hastily moves away, Bruce curses internally reaching into his pocket.

Wishing he’d been braver and closed the distance sooner, capturing those perfectly soft looking lips.

##    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post spray Jeremiah rebels in his growing obsession, Bruce Wayne. Meanwhile Bruce struggle to hold thing together following a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone For the kudos, bookmarks and hits.
> 
> Okay, so I became so sucked into writing that I managed to finish this part early. As I’ll be moving house at the Weekend I don’t expect the next instalment to be finished for a little while.
> 
> So have this to tide you over. 
> 
> This chapter mostly covers the episode ‘That Old Corpse’ with some variations. And honestly I’m unsure if this is going to be more than three parts, I may have to add a few more chapters.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Torn apart_

_To become a living work of art_

_Chaos kindled in my burning heart_

_Tear the creaking doors apart_

_My obsession and endless yearning_

_As our paths they align_

_Bound together by more than spell or sign._

_~~ Lilac & Violet, by Miracle Of Sound._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

‘Jeremiah’

Just the sound of his name from Bruce Wayne’s lips cause shivers to ripple down his spine. He can’t get enough of the time the brunette spends here, in the bunker, with him. He really should be moving forward with the plans he’d set out weeks ago, but Bruce, equaled distraction and a welcome one.

‘Jeremiah’

He twirls around his workspace a happy smile stretching his face as he replays the sound of his name spoken, like a prayer, like a promise. He’s drowning in euphoria and his name spilled from Bruce Wayne’s lips. 

‘There’s no reason to be afraid, I’ll be with you every step of the way’ 

Sweet Bruce, Precious Bruce. Jeremiah adored the attention that was lavished upon him by the brunette, every look, every touch and oh, how close they had come to the sweetest of kisses, he wanted it, wanted it all like an insatiable hunger that might never be quelled, no matter how many touches, or looks or kisses Bruce bestowed upon him, but he could wait, be patient.

There was still so much work to be done, Jerome’s diary had been so informative, especially all the tidbits about Bruce, Jerome had spied a darkness crawling beneath Bruce Wayne’s skin, it had captivated him and he’d written his longings to draw the beast to the surface. Why, if his dear brother were alive today, he would dare say he’d have a rival for Bruce’s affections.

And that just wouldn’t do now would it?

Because Bruce Wayne…

Was.

His.

His friend, his destiny...his everything.

He was in every single one of Jeremiah’s thoughts.

Ecco slipped into the room, he side steps reaching out to pull her close, their fingers twining together, he leads her in a twist around the room, his spirits high. He notes the smile lighting up her face, because Ecco was happy when Jeremiah was happy. It was as simple as that, she was his most loyal, most trusted.

There would never be another like her, the only exception was Bruce or will be Bruce once he’s given himself over to Jeremiah. And especially once he embraces the beast within, it's so exciting and he can’t wait to see his claw and teeth.

Can’t hardly wait to see what Brice Wayne was capable of.

laughter bubbles free.

“You’re in high spirits boss, and I have more good news, everything is all set up...just give me the word.”Ecco coos matching his steps and twirling with a jovial shriek.

everything was falling into place with such precision, the board set, now all he needed were the players to take their positions. His grand reveal was on the horizon and thus far nothing had gone awry although the closeness building between Jeremiah and Bruce had not been a part of his grand scheme.

A happy little accident.

And Bruce would understand, he would, he yearned for Bruce with a burning intensity that might very well be his ending, and Bruce wanted him too, he knew it deep in his soul, but alas the timing wasn’t yet perfect, with still so much work to done, he had ideas and plans and a kingdom to build.

Bruce would be arriving soon. Jeremiah needed to prepare, to dress for the occasion.

  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  


He awoke with nervous energy buzzing through him, a strange apprehension tickles down his spine leaving a knot in the pit of his stomach. A feeling of dread fills him as he quickly descends the stairs, something monumental is approaching, he feels it as keenly as the wind brushing through his hair as he steps beyond the manor doors.

He’s quite excited though, at the prospects of testing out the generator with Jeremiah later today, he holds no doubt in his mind that it will not fail. He leans into the breeze, stretching his limbs before taking his morning run.

Once he’s showered and dressed for his trip to the bunker, Bruce bids Alfred goodbye, but not before quickly informing him of his whereabouts, just in case something was to go awry, this was Gotham after all and Bruce had learnt early on to expect the unexpected.

Always be ready for trouble.

He finds himself standing outside of the bunker an hour later, trepidation licking his insides, Bruce doesn’t get the chance to press the bell as he hears the small buzz and the door clicks open. Jeremiah has of course spotted him on camera.

As eager to see Bruce as Bruce was to see Jeremiah it seemed.

He can’t help the small smile.

But...

It’s quiet, it usually is, but the quiet today seems off and doesn’t help Bruce’s apprehension lift. His thoughts are reeling as he trails the bland corridors that lead to the heart of the bunker and Jeremiah’s office.

There’s no sign of Ecco this morning either. It’s unusual because even though she usually fades into the background, Bruce was always aware of her presence and it only sets him more on edge.

Something isn’t right. He thinks, hurrying his steps.

He hopes Jeremiah is okay.

He reaches the office, the door is open, Jeremiah is waiting for him and something about him is different today, maybe he wouldn’t have noticed had he not been spending so much of his time around the redhead, but it’s quite obvious to Bruce in the Jeremiah is holding himself differently,arms behind his back his posture stiff but there’s a jitteriness in his movements. 

He eyes Bruce with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’ve finally finished the generator Bruce.”there is a flash of excitement in his eyes now and Bruce steps into the room, he can’t help his own smile or the bubbling excitement that builds.

His sense of unease lifting, for the moment.

“Are you ready for a demonstration?”Bruce’s answering smile and nod is all the confirmation Jeremiah needs. “Okay if you flip that switch there, then the facility will be disconnected from the power grid.”he mentions to the wall behind the brunette and Bruce happily obliges.

The room falls into darkness, complete and utter pitch black though it doesn’t last long as a whirring sound emits from the generator lighting up with a cool blue glow, it’s working, it’s working the moment wonderful as they both bask in the luminance, A rush of pride fills Bruce’s chest and he grins with delight at Jeremiah.

Jeremiah’s answering smile is breathtakingly pleased, lighting up his entire face.

The unease is forgotten entirely. The generator is working, it’s powering the bunker perfectly, just as Jeremiah promised it would.

“Ambient energy.”his companion breaths, “no cables or wires of any kind. It’s clean and stable, harvested from micro tremors and air density shifts...it’s virtually without costs.”It's stunning, perfect, it holds so much promise for Gothams future...so many people will benefit from this, it’s more than Bruce could have possibly dreamed.

The feelings rushing through him are overwhelming, “and with the prototypes at Wayne labs...we could power all of Gotham?”his voice is filled with wonder at the prospect.

“You kept this project a secret, yes?”there’s a subtle edge in Jeremiah’s tone.

Bruce is filled with the need to sooth his friend, assure him that he’d kept his word, “no one outside of Wayne industries knows it exists.”

Jeremiah stands from his spot on the desk and moves closer, there’s a spark of something in his expression Bruce can’t decipher.

“It’s the ones closest to you that you have to keep your eye on.”the sudden paranoia reflected on Jeremiah’s face worries the brunette. “I know better than anyone.”

Because of Jerome, Bruce realises and his eyes search Jeremiah’s desk and work table for signs of the diary, he should have taken it with him the day Jeremiah revealed it to him. He spots the black book partially hidden under a mound of blueprints.

“Jeremiah I ensured all parties involved with the project signed a non-disclosure agreement, no one else will know about this until we decide so.”Bruce places a reassuring hand on Jeremiah’s arm, 

“Good...that is good, you’re a good friend Bruce.”something about his tone is still edgy, there’s a nervous almost paranoid aura radiating from his companion.

Bruce wishes he could sooth it away, his opens his mouth to repeat further assurances but is interrupted by the buzzing of his phone, withdrawing it he see Alfre’s name flashing on the screen.

“Who is that.”Jeremiah asks sharply.

Bruce frowns watching his friend closely “it’s just Alfred.”he assures him, flipping open the phone to answer, he moves a short distance away from Jeremiah.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, master Bruce I’ve got some rather disturbing news. Jerome Valeska’s acolytes are kicking off again.” ice fills his veins and he freezes, his gaze flickering to Jeremiah. He prays his expression doesn’t portray the dread filling him.

“Yes, thank you Alfred.”

“I’m on my way.”The worry is evidence in Alfred’s voice and Bruce feels a sense of comfort knowing he can count on him. 

The line disconnects and Bruce closes the phone lifting his eyes to catch Jeremiah watching him, and the lie slips from his lips easily.

He doesn’t want to cause Jeremiah any more stress than necessary and Alfred would be here as soon as he could be, he’d ensure they reached a safe place should Jerome’s followers decide to target Jeremiah.

“Lunch plans.” He pockets his phone.

“That was a lie.”Jeremiah is watching him, Bruce falters at being called out, guilt flooding through him. “You’re lying time me, Bruce?”

Jeremiah’s words, his expression have the power to make Bruce feel sick for lying, even though the intention behind the lie was to protect his friend.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”so,so sorry, he thinks. “It seems as if Jerome’s followers are causing trouble.” Please don’t panic, please don’t panic. He holds Jeremiah’s gaze, willing him to remain calm even though he can see the struggle filtering across his face. 

His stomach somersaults.

“Oh my god...I was right.”he backs away, panic seizing him.

“No, Jeremiah.”

“I was right...he’s not dead.”His voice is laced with dread, it twists Bruce’s heart and he watches as the redhead loses himself in panic, desperately speaking to Bruce about how he was right and Jerome wasn’t dead, Jerome was coming after him...wanted to kill him. 

His fight or flight responses are warring within him as he paces around the space, agitated, his breathing quick and heavy and Bruce, unable to think on how to calm the situation, moves forward, taking a gentle but firm hold of Jeremiah’s forearms.

“It’s okay,”he soothes his thumb, absently tracing small circles on his arm, “it’s okay, Jerome is gone...it’s just his followers.” Jeremiah’s panic is almost infectious, as his heart thunders in his chest and he hopes his expression doesn’t show it because he wants nothing more than to be a pillar of support for his friend.

Without showing his own rising worry.

“Bruce, Bruce, Bruce,”his name is a litany from Jeremiah’s lips as if simply speaking Bruce’s name soothes him. They are, Bruce realises, so , so close.

Close enough to share breath.

“Bruce…”he says again, almost breathless. “I need to tell you something,”

“It’s okay, you can tell me anything Jeremiah.”how many times had Bruce sat using him as a confidant and revealed his deepest fears, it was the least he could do, to offer the same for Jeremiah, his hand idly, comfortingly run up and down Jeremiah’s arms, hazel eyes follow the movement before returning to meet Bruce’s gaze.

The air crackle with that same energy as before, the pull is almost too much to resist.

That same familiar feeling rising as his pulse thunders, he can feel it in his throat.

He wants…

He wants…

Heat rises on his face, he should just close the distance now but a part of him doesn’t want to ruin things between them with his brashness, Jeremiah was perhaps not in the right emotional state and it wouldn’t be fair or right for Brice to give into impulse.

He’s also struggling to read Jeremiah’s expression, as it morphs between panic and a glimmer of something Bruce can not discern, Bruce feels as if Jeremiah is having an internal battle he can’t understand.

Bruce forgets to breathe as Jeremiah leans forward to rest his forehead again Bruce’s, his stomach does a strange little flip.

“Bruce...you're a good friend, a pillar of strength for me.”warm breath tickles his cheeks, the feeling of butterflies in his gut is chaotic, a nervous tremble reverberates through him.

“I’m very glad to have met you.”He feels the absolute truth of the words, Jeremiah pulls away regarding him with glimmering eyes.

“After Jerome died, he left one last trap for me.”

Danger, danger, danger. The warning startles him, goosebumps rise up on his arms as he waits for Jeremiah to continue.

“He sprayed me with his insanity gas.”Bruce’s hold on Jeremiah’s arms release in shock and he backs away slowly, his face twisting.

“ ‘A special mixture just for you, Brother.’” Anger encompasses his being, at Jerome, for still being one jump ahead of everyone else enough to still get his revenge on his brother, at himself, because he should have realised Jerome would have more than one trick up his sleeve, and Bruce should have followed Jeremiah home and maybe, maybe he could have stopped it.

Too little too late now. 

“I can’t stop seeing him, clawing his way out of his grave.”he sounds so lost, so consumed by his paranoia. “Coming for me and even though I know it’s not real...it feels real.”his voice breaks on the words.

Not knowing what to do Bruce’s mind whirls through a million thoughts, consumed by his need to protect his friend, there must be a way to assure Jeremiah that everything will be alright, that Jerome is dead and buried.

Maybe that’s it, he could, he could show Jeremiah where Jerome lies buried.

“It feels so real and I can’t control myself.”

“What if I could show you that he’s dead and buried.”he faces Jeremiah, steps closer holding his gaze, his mind set on the next course of action.

  
  


“How?”

Bruce swallows, his mind set, determined. “We go there, to his grave.”

“No-no,no.”

Panic is seizing his friend as he backs up almost against the wall, Bruce goes to him, ignoring the flutters in his stomach as he once again takes a hold of Jeremiah gently but firmly, they lock gazes.

He wants to make everything okay, he wants to protect Jeremiah, “your brother took away your greatest strength, your mind, turning it into a trap.” I won’t abandon you, he swears silently pulling him into an embrace, he won’t, he won’t, he won’t. 

Bruce has always overcome every challenge and situation thrown at him because he’s had support, from people who cared and loved him and apart from Ecco, whose whereabouts were unknown, as far as he knew Jeremiah had no one else.

Except he wasn’t alone anymore, he had Bruce.

“If you can see the reality, you can be freed from that trap. I’ll be with every step of the way and after...for however long you need me.”he vows.

“Do you really believe that will work?”he pulls away eyeing Bruce, but makes no move to untangle himself from the embrace.

There’s a hopeful look shining in his expression.

“I do.”he’s willing it to be true, because he can’t let Jerome have the final laugh and ruin his brother's life, not when things were finally starting to go right.

Not when Bruce could potentially lose the possibility of something far more precious than friendship, something that he’s felt steadily growing beneath the surface, he wouldn’t let Jerome win.

He sighs feeling suddenly exhausted and rests his forehead against Jeremiah’s, he can’t help craving the contact, there’s a fear gnawing at him, like he can almost feel Jeremiah slipping away.

“I’ll be with you.”it’s a declaration with more feeling behind the words than Jeremiah could ever realise. 

His breath catches in his throat when Jeremiah raises a hand against his cheek, slowly, softly he traces the shape of Bruce’s jawline, the flutters in his stomach grow in intensity.

“Then I’ll try. You’re a good friend.”a line he keeps repeating, Bruce wonders if Jeremiah has ever really had a friend before, because it’s almost like he doesn’t believe his luck.

When Jeremiah moves away it leaves him feeling cold, and he reaches to touch the spot on his cheek where Jeremiah’s hand had been before following the said man from the room.

A silent prayer to whoever might be listening that everything will be okay, everything will work out.

Because he couldn’t bear losing someone else that had managed to find a place in his heart.


	3. Damned if I do/ Damned if I don’t.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mildly violent, possessive behaviour. 
> 
> Bruce is having a very bad day, while Jeremiah’s the cat that got the cream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well what can I say, these boy seem to write themselves. I really hope this turned out okay, it actually just kept going and going but I think I’ve covered what I wanted and needed to for this part. 
> 
> I’ll be starting on the next part ASAP. Apologies for any errors.
> 
> A huge thank you to you all for the Kudos, Hits, Bookmarks and Comments. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**_And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't_ **

**_So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road_ **

**_And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope_ **

**_It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat_ **

**_'Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me_ **

**_Looking for heaven, for the devil in me_ **

**_Well what the hell I'm gonna let it happen to me._ **

**_~~ Shake it out, Florence and the Machine._ **

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  


Bruce is spiralling, he’s beginning to feel like Alice must have felt in the story, you know the one where she follows the white rabbit and falls down the rabbit hole. That is exactly how Bruce had felt as he sprinted after Jeremiah following the discovery of Jerome’s empty grave.

The earth lay open like a gaping wound with no coffin or body to be seen. Surely...surely, Bruce had thought panic struck, shocked to the core, Jerome wasn’t alive.

At one point he found himself wishing this was all just a twisted nightmare. Because he’d seen Jerome Valeska’s lifeless body on the caved in roof of the truck, surrounded by an innumerable amount of people reaching out to touch his lifeless form.

He shudders at the memory, it wasn’t possible for Jerome to still be alive, it wasn’t, this was surely the work of his followers.

That’s what he’d thought...before his whole world tilted on its axis and he was faced with Jeremiah.

His Jeremiah, the man Bruce was, quite frankly very nearly in love with.

Everything had all gone so very wrong, and as Jeremiah continued to speak, so paranoid so unhinged, Bruce had slowly come to realise Jerome had indeed been victorious in his efforts for revenge, the insanity gas had indeed worked, perhaps better than he’d ever planned.

The Jeremiah he knew was lost, except that wasn’t quite right was it, because the more his thoughts dwelled on the months that had flown by and the more he listened to Jeremiah address his audience, his brothers former followers.

The more the realisation slammed into him that Bruce had been slowly falling for Jeremiah as he was now, it had become apparent that only on one single occasion had he actually interacted with Jeremiah before the insanity spray had taken a hold of him. 

But…

Jeremiah was his.

Despite the fact he’d chased Bruce down at gunpoint, accusing him of being Jerome in disguise, of having swapped faces, of all mad imaginings. Despite that he calmly murders one of Jerome’s Maniax, blood splattering his face and announces his intentions to better his brother's plans.

“Behold, the face of true sanity”

Despite all this Bruce still cares far too deeply, sometimes he wonders how sick he actually is beneath the surface.

He can’t help himself but interject at that point, because come on, seriously, what could actually be madder than that. Jeremiah was clearly delusional In thinking the insanity spray hadn’t worked, bar the minor cosmetic effects that Bruce could only glimpse at as he wipes the blood from his cheek.

Jeremiah declares his intentions are not to kill Bruce, the Maniax’, they don’t seem to like that idea and Jeremiah snaps at that, his temper fraying, his eyes burning into Bruce with such intensity the breath is knocked from him.

His heart thunders in his chest, he should be repulsed by Jeremiah, by his actions, he’s undoubtedly furious for the deception, the rage simmering beneath his skin, it’s Jeremiah’s lies that hurt the most, the lengthy deception and the cruel game playing out before him.

And yet…

He can’t simply switch off his feelings, by some humourless twist of fate Bruce is enamoured, besotted, infatuated...past the point of no return, these feelings consume him. Jeremiah consumes him, his every thought, Bruce had only managed to scrape through each day of late because of the hours spent with Jeremiah in the bunker. 

There was something very, very wrong with him. There had to be. Perhaps he was just as twisted as, it was becoming apparent, Jeremiah was. 

And he’d made a promise, hadn’t he, he swore to Jeremiah he wouldn’t abandon him, even as a gun is pointed directly at his chest and Jeremiah is still speaking to him, but Bruce had been too lost, caught up in his reeling thoughts to hear his words.

He listens now, his eyes never leaving Jeremiah’s face, beseeching him almost, as the grip his captor holds him with tightens uncomfortably, he struggles, trying to pull himself out of their firm grip to no avail. 

“Me, now if I want to kill you, I’ll just do it… I’ll shoot you in the head, simply and sanely.”

“Jeremiah, please.”how far gone are you? He silently implores.

_Let me save you, let me save you._

“But I don't want to kill you.”His confession causes uproar among Jerome’s Maniax, a chorus of boos sound around the cemetery and one or two even throw a small fit, they are hissing and spitting on the ground obviously they had been out for Bruce’s blood.

There’s little surprise on Jeremiah’s face, as if he’d expected this reaction. “Are you going to listen or behave like children?”

Rage begins to reach boiling point as Jeremiah reveals the true depths of his deception, Bruce blinks, trying to keep his expression perfectly blank, the generators doubled as bombs, he’d stood by, he’d funded this madness, he’d been terribly used and betrayed. 

He feels the overwhelming urge to attack Jeremiah, his anger is baring leashed, but boiling steadily over.

A deafening explosion shakes the earth beneath his feet, the shudders and shakes last a few minutes, as a large plume of dense black smoke rises into the sky, and Bruce struggling against the hold in his arms, trying to forcing himself free from the tight grips holding him back, he roars in rage and anguish on hearing Jim Gordon was caught in the blast, Jim is dead and his word shatters.

One more person taken from him.

The man whose been nothing but a father figure to him, dead, by a bomb Bruce had funded. He jerks forward, roughly unable to hear Jeremiah’s words through his rage and tears. His chest aches, his rage builds but he calms himself for a moment.

“No, no.”

“Yes, Bruce. Sorry but Progress requires sacrifice.”Is Jeremiah truly too far gone, have the claws of insanity sunk in so deep and true that there’s no hope left to save him? He doesn’t want to believe Jeremiah is capable of this madness, despite the evidence before him.

“I’m going to stop you.” _I’m going to save you._ He vows through clenched teeth, those pearly eyes, so void of the colour he’s used to gazing into stare back.

“I really hope you don’t try Bruce.”he closes the distance, eyes never straying from Bruce’s face, it’s incredibly intimate and Bruce’s captors fidget uncomfortably.

“I would hate to have to kill you, in fact, I can honestly say you are my very best friend.”

Fury burns in his veins and he lurches forward taking his captors by surprise, Bruce slams into Jeremiah and they tumble to the ground in a heap, chaos ensues with the surrounding Maniax hesitant, unsure on what to do.

Bruce doesn’t care as they hover like wolves around them, his focus is on Jeremiah only, pinned beneath him, he ignores the heat engulfing his body. But Jeremiah’s pale face twists in a way that makes Bruce suspect he's enjoying the rough treatment; it leaves him feeling sick and ashamedly hot all at once. It should feel so, so wrong but it doesn’t, having Jeremiah trapped beneath his body calls to the darkness he fights so hard to tamper down.

He should be exacting retribution for murdering Jim Gordon, for using Bruce to create bombs,he should be smashing his face in with his fist, he should be doing anything other than thinking about the heat blooming with him and crushing his lips against Jeremiah’s.

His crumbles inside, angry and conflicted.

“You know what I hate, Jeremiah.”he hisses, lowering his lips to the redheads ear, a shudder runs through the man beneath him and it...it pleases him in all the ways it shouldn’t.

“I hate that you let him win, I hate that you didn’t fight harder,”he gulps a breath, his entire being trembling with anger, with want, with an insatiable need to press closer into the body beneath him, soak in the warmth, drown in the sensation.

“I hate that I couldn’t save you, that you’ve hurt the people _I_ care about.”His hands are gripping Jeremiah’s upper arms tightly, enough to bruise. It reminds him of the time in the mirror maze, when he was so incredibly close to killing Jerome.

The anger is controlling him rather than Bruce controlling it. 

“Oh...Bruce.”Jeremiah’s voice is breathy, his eyes alight with pure delight.

Bruce is dimly aware of the Maniax scurrying away from them, either certain that Bruce holds the upper hand or completely bewildered and uncomfortable watching the exchange between Bruce and Jeremiah, good riddance, he thinks turning his focus back to the redhead.

“But most of all, Jeremiah.”he feels Jeremiah shiver when he speaks his name, it sends a wicked thrill to his core and he hisses a breath, teeth clenching.

I hate the feelings you make me feel, he thinks, I hate that I see your darkness and it calls to my own.

I hate that I like it.

A hand raises to his face, pale fingers stroking his cheek, the thoughts are whirring through his head in a chaotic tumble. He was beginning to forget everything he should be thinking, or feeling or doing — so consumed in the moment.

Anger melting into a burning need for the man beneath him.

“Tell me Bruce...tell me everything.”sharp nails dig into his cheek, the pain is sharp and piercing sending a jolt through his body, the inferno rising higher, higher burning hotter and hotter, his cheek stings in a gratifying way he finds he enjoys.

It’s shameful to be here feeling these things after everything that’s happened, with the knowledge that Jeremiah used the generator as a bomb, that he killed Jim.

“But most of all…”his voice is rough, cracking under the sensations Jeremiah’s touches are awakening. Jeremiah’s eyes are so bright, he’s hanging onto every word with a rapturous fascination, as if Bruce was entrancing him. “I hate myself because I don’t hate you at all.”Not even a little bit, he thinks leaning closer, closer, closer. His eyes drinking in every detail, committing the down right besotted look on Jeremiah’s pale face, to his memory.

Laughter bubbles free from Jeremiah’s lips, it’s delighted, ecstatic laughter.

They are both breathing heavily, nearly nose to nose.

“You feel it don’t you, the connection between us? tell me you feel Bruce, tell me you do.”the plea is desperate, like he needs Bruce to assure him of the truth he wishes he could deny.

He feel like Alice again, falling, falling, falling down an unending rabbit hole wreathed in darkness. He’s trembling as his head rests against Jeremiah’s, his lips brushing against his, he’s shattering to pieces as he says in a hushed whisper.

“Yes, I feel it.”The raw honesty of his words is starling. His breathing is as erratic as his thundering heart, he can feel it against his ribs, hear it in his ears. “But I swear, if you ever hurt anyone I love ever again, I will never forgive you.ever.”

He means it with every fibre of his being.

“Bruce...Bruce,”Jeremiah breaths his name again and again, bestowing kisses along his cheeks, his jawline trailing his lips down his neck softly, slowly with little nips from his teeth that cause Bruce to hiss, to shiver, to lean in closer. “So precious, so perfect.” His mouth crushes against Bruce’s lips, the kiss is rough and gentle simultaneously, drawing mewing sounds from Bruce’s throat as the heat builds and builds and builds.

God, it’s both heaven and hell.

He can’t get enough, he wants to crush himself closer. He wants more, more, more. He finds himself sinking deeper into Jeremiah’s heat pressing their bodies together and it’s still not close enough, lost within the need to be closer and burning from the inside out with want, Bruce bites down on Jeremiah’s bottom lip, he trembles and hisses under him as Bruce sucks and bites down harder and harder, a coppery taste touching his tongue, he pulls back realising he’s broken skin.

There’s blood in his mouth and blood slowly seeping from Jeremiah’s lip, down to his chin.

He should feel disgusted and ashamed, he should, he should, but the look of heated elation shining in Jeremiah’s eyes in confirmation for Bruce that Jeremiah is more than happy for Bruce to mark him.

It’s the first time the claim resounds in his thoughts and he’s accepting, _mine, mine, mine._

Bruce can’t recall feeling such intense feelings when it came to kissing Selina. He thinks briefly that this level of intoxicating need can’t be healthy.

Perhaps something broke in Bruce a long time ago, maybe all the goodness that he used to hold within him had died that day in the alley, with his parents, to be replaced by something dark and twisted.

“Precious Bruce, I hope you can forgive me.”Jeremiah purrs, breaking their connection.

Bruce frowns in confusion, “forgive you for what?”he’s flustered and wanting and so, so conflicted and confused by his own feelings, by this whole messed up situation.

“For this.”Jeremiah kisses him again cupping his face with one hand and Bruce doesn’t realise before it's too late and the crack echoes in his ears, pain splinters through his skull and darkness envelops him.

Jeremiah cradles Bruce in the crook of one arm, with his free hand he withdraws his phone and dials Ecco’s number.

“Boss?”

“There’s been a change of plan, free the butler, ensure he’s unharmed.”he could abandon one of his plans for Bruce, as a show of faith.

“Did something happen?”

Jeremiah smiles looking down at the unconscious body in his arms, “indeed, something unforeseen but wonderful all the same.”

Bruce was assuredly his now.

“Oh and Ecoo, once you’ve released our guest, we have more work to do. I’ll be along shortly.”

“Righto Boss.” 

The line goes silent, Jeremiah caresses Bruce’s cheek gently, leaning forward he pressed one last kiss against his forehead and shifts his weight to lay him upon the earth. He stands brushing the dust from his clothes, his eyes watching the gentle rise and fall of Bruce’s chest, ensuring one last time he’s okay before he steps away.

Leaving Bruce unconscious in the cemetery. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Bruce finally manages to make his way to GCPD station, he finds utter chaos. His head throbs painfully and he’s still slightly disoriented from Jeremiah’s blow. Still reeling from his slip of control and how much he’d enjoyed every moment of it.

But right now, he needed to know with certainty that Jim Gordon was dead, he searches the faces rushing past until he spots detective Bullock shouting orders to the scrambling officers. He’s not sure what is happening but he can smell the smoke and taste the dust in the air.

He’s heard the cries about Gotham clock tower. 

Only a few hours had passed since he’d been knocked unconscious, surely Jeremiah couldn’t have caused this much chaos in such a short amount of time. 

But of course he could have, hadn’t he said to Bruce something about having a vision, a plan?

and also outdoing Jerome. 

He sighs, rubbing his aching head just as detective Bullock makes his way over, looking ragged and completely run off his feet, Bruce feels a stab of guilt.

“Hey, Bruce, are you okay?”Bullock comes to a halt before him, looking relieved to see him.

“I’m fine, I heard about Jim. Is it true.”please, please don’t let it be true, he thinks. 

“As far as I’m concerned, Jim Gordon is alive and kicking and waiting for us to find him.”it sounds more like wishful thinking to Bruce, and confirms his worry that Jim might really, truly have been killed.

“Detective, don’t lie to me.”the ache in his chest is a physical pain.

Harvey’s face falls, “it’s not looking good, kid.” But there is Hope, a slim sliver of hope then that Jim survived, “I was hoping you could help me, did you see Jim? How did you get out of the bunker?”

Bruce swallows composing himself against the anguish crushing him. “Jeremiah and I had already left the bunker. Jerome…”he draws in another breath, “Jerome sprayed him with a gas that drove him insane.”he needed them to understand, to know, that one, he’d had no idea when working with Jeremiah what his intentions were or that Bruce had known about his schemes and two, this wasn’t all completely Jeremiah’s fault.

If only he’d followed him to the bunker that day.

“I’m so sick of that freaking family,”Harvey growls “did you hear about Gotham clock tower, huh?”his gaze is penetrating, “this guy’s got these massive explosives…”

Oh god.

“It’s my fault.”he says trembling.

“What?”his tone sharpens.

He feels dirty, he feels sickened to his very core, too much is happening all at once, he takes a lungful of air before continuing, “Jeremiah had plans to create next generation generators...I funded him.”he chokes back tears.

Harvey’s voice raises a few octaves, anger and disbelief evident, “Wayne Enterprises built those bombs?”there’s really nothing he can do to take it back, he feels wretched enough without Harvey’s look of utter disappointment.

He scrambles his brain to think of any way to help, “listen, the schematics for the battery should be in Wayne Enterprises R&D lab.”he explains quickly, desperate to put something to right, even if there’s a small chance the information will help. “Lucius can take a look at them and figure out how to disarm the bombs.”It's the best he could offer, there was no other way he could right this wrong, the deed was done, he, Bruce might well be done, he feels like he’s fallen so far.

Emotion bubbles and lingers close to the surface, he tampers down the sob building, his thoughts racing, “I’m going to get them now.” He turns to leave and is stopped short by Harvey’s hand on his arm.

“No, you’re going home.”The tone brokers no argument, Harvey’s gaze is serious.

“No, I have to do this.” Harvey couldn’t understand the desperation, the guilt egging him on. 

Detective Bullock, clearly straining under stress turns sharply, his voice rising higher, “look, I know you feel guilty...but Jim Gordon was...is important to all of us and it’s my job. So, go home, be with Alfred, Be safe.”his temper cools, but only slightly. “It’s what Jim would want.”the anger fades from his eyes, replaced with exhaustion and worry and the undertone of grief, Harvey wants to believe Jim is okay, but he can’t escape the evidence that’s pointing him towards a conclusion he can’t, he won’t accept.

“Lucius.”

Harvey rushes off to find Lucius Fox to relay the information Bruce offered. The brunette sighs and turns toward the exit, he’s exhausted too and aching still, his eyes blur as his thoughts turn to Jim Gordon.

“Bruce.”Alfres voice is equal measures of relief and pain, Bruce lifts his head to the exit, his blood runs cold, spotting the dried blood on Alfred's face, on his shirt. He rushes forward to inspect the damage, to make sure he’s not seriously hur, his fingers tremble, he’s on the verge of tears again.

“Alfred, what happened?”Alfred grips his shoulders, his eyes watery and pulls him into a tight embrace, it’s home and it’s just what Bruce needs right now, after such a terribly long day.

“It’s a long story Bruce, would you believe that I was attacked, taken against my will and then released.”Bruce is frozen, understanding dawning and he feels a flutter in his chest, remembering his threat to Jeremiah.

“I don’t understand.”he says, but he did, Jeremiah has obviously ordered Alfred taken with the intention to use him against Bruce before…

before everything had changed.

Alfre ruffles his hair, “neither do I mate, neither do I...I heard about the clock tower, I heard about Jeremiah.”he leans away to inspect Bruce with his eyes, and despite the scratches on his face, the dried blood, the exhaustion lining his eyes and the dirt coating his charge, he’s appeased and relieved Bruce is here, in one peice and okay physically.

“Alfred...I...he…”he sucks in a breath, his emotions boiling to the surface, he feels like that small boy back in the alley again, he wants to explain everything that’s happened, he want to defend Jeremiah and explain about the gas, but he’s not sure Alfred would understand and his emotions are so stretched he settles for another truth tearing at him, “Jim, he’s gone.” The damn breaks and tears slip freely over his cheeks.

Alfred is silent as he wraps an arm around Bruce’s shoulder and steers him from the building. “Let’s go home, Bruce, let’s go home.”is all he murmurs soothingly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They’ve been at the manor for a few hours now, Bruce has showered and changed clothes and is sitting in the study, his eyes distant with far away thoughts, There’s still no word on Jim Gordon but Lucius called not long ago, having found the schematics from Wayne Enterprises R&D lab.

It sparked a hope within him that Jeremiah’s plans to blow up Gotham could be stopped. It doesn’t erase the guilt or every conflicting, confusing feeling rushing through Bruce, but it’s enough, for now, that he can rest slightly easier.

His phone buzzes and he reaches toward the coffee table, his brow furrowing, because why would Alfred be calling him from the kitchen?

“Alfred?”

“No, not Alfred.”his heartbeat accelerates, Jeremiah sounds faintly amused. “Hello, Bruce.”

“Jeremiah.”His eyes drift to check he’s alone, that Alfred isn’t nearby to overhear. “Where are you?”he demands.

“Are you missing me, Bruce?”

No, yes. He doesn’t admit it, he won’t, he can’t. 

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts, his feelings conflicted. “Jeremiah, you need to stop this...please,”voicing cracking with each spoken word, his emotions bubbling to the surface, the news report flashes in his mind: Jim Gordon was still missing, presumed dead.

“You killed Jim Gordon, Jeremiah.”anger seeps to the surface, his voice is a growl. Bruce might not be able to bring himself to completely hate Jeremiah, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still be disgusted and furious by his actions. “I can’t ever forgive you for that.”

There’s a soft sigh, “I did, and I’m not asking for your forgiveness.”he’s utterly unrepentant, “you received my show of faith, yes?”Bruce’s eyebrows crinkle in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I freed your butler, unharmed, more or less and allowed him to return to you…”he wondered if Jeremiah was behind the attack on Alfred, he just couldn’t prove it considering Alfred didn’t see who knocked him out and took him. The person has been masked. “I took your threat very seriously Bruce, I won’t lose you now.”

_You don’t actually have me,_ Bruce thinks but there’s no point correcting him, he really can’t be bothered trying to make Jeremiah understand.

“You need to stop whatever it is you’re planning, tell me where you are.”please, he adds internally, he knows though, Jeremiah isn’t going to stop whatever it is he has in the works, especially not just because Bruce asked nicely, he didn’t have that kind of power over him.

...yet. He feels that one day, he might just have enough sway to veer Jeremiah away from whatever horrendous plans he concocts.

“My dear heart,” the endearment has Bruce’s heart stuttering in a pleasant way. “I’m afraid I can’t do that—“Jeremiah’s voice trails off suddenly and Bruce listens intently to the small commotion at the other end of the line.

“Oswald Cobblepot”there’s a surprised amusement in his tone “...Barbara Keen, in my stronghold.”He's no longer speaking to Bruce it seems.

Brice strains to listen, he hears the familiar voice of Oswald Cobblepot begin speaking, slightly muffled. “Not one step closer, Mr Valeska.”

Bruce knows what these people are capable of alone, so what could they do when their forces were acting jointly?

A spike of worry blooms in Bruce’s stomach, what the hell was happening? He can hear Jeremiah speaking again, more muffled this time and he’s unable to make out the words. There was some kind of confrontation taking place between Jeremiah, Oswald Cobblepot and Barbara Keen.

“Indeed, it is.”Oswald is saying, he sounds awfully smug.

“Jeremiah?”Bruce is quite sure he hasn’t heard him, undoubtedly holding the phone away from his ear.

“Huh. Well...it seems you have the upper hand, bear with me one moment please, I’m in the middle of an important call...it’s rude to keep my dear one waiting”

“Jeremiah?”he tries again, a frantic edge entering his voice, his emotions are still riding him high from the day’s events and he’s not sure he can possibly take anymore.

“Apologies, precious heart...we've been rudely interrupted, I’ll have to call you back soon.”

“Wait—Jeremiah...What the hell is going on?” The line dies suddenly without further explanation. Bruce curses staring down at the phone. He shouldn’t worry, he’s not even sure why he’s worrying, he should be angry, furious, raging at the redhead, certainly not torn between staying with Alfred and tearing out of the manor to search for Jeremiah.

He puffs out a frustrated breath, he’s emotionally burnt out, Jeremiah, he concludes, can take care of his own troubles because Bruce needs some time to work through his own messed up head and feelings.

He wonders idly if perhaps he might just be a tiny bit insane himself.


End file.
